Apocalypse Rising (21 page)

"Would you like me to heal that for you?" I ask.

She holds up a hand and says, "no offense, Justin, but friend or not, I'm not that eager to have the Angel of Death lay his hands on me in my current condition."

She is smiling and she means no harm, but the words sting all the same. Everyone fears me even if it is only instinctual, and I understand it even more so since I spent so much time as a human. Understanding does not mean I have to like it. Her simple denial reminds me that I am set apart and I always will be.

"So what is the deal with the girl?" Accantha asks. "I know she is your friend and that is enough for me, but what has happened to her?"

I think for a moment, searching my memories for something similar until I find something that might fit. "I think she has become an oracle," I say. "More specifically, she is my oracle."

"How did that happen?" Accantha asks as she ties her blindfold over the wound in her leg.

"We were connected through the Power," I say. "She was addicted to heroin, and I purged it from her body by replacing the need with the Power. I didn't mean to do it. I wasn't myself yet and my control was wanting."

"That explains the rush of sobriety," Lilly says, "but it still doesn't explain the blindness coupled with clarity." She is quiet for a moment. "It is like I can hear whispered voices all about me, telling me what I should be seeing and sharing secrets with me. It is a little disconcerting."

I sigh and explain, "I think the conversion happened because our connection was so new and because you were locked in this circle. When I awoke, you were hit with the backlash and absorbed some of me."

"So there is some of you inside of me?" Lilly asks.

"Yes," I say. "You are an extension of me now and will be until the day you die."

"Shit," she says. "You have got to fix this, Justin. I don't want to be an oracle or whatever you said. I just want to go home." That she managed to keep from crying gave me hope.

Before I can respond, we hear the church doors up above opening and closing. "I'm afraid Father Gabriel may have made a hasty decision," I say. "Accantha, would you encourage him to leave, and never return?"

Accantha nods and jogs up the stairs without so much as a hitch in her step. I turn back to the circle that keeps Lilly from my sight. "Don't worry," I say, "I'll have you out of there in no time."

No sooner do the words leave my mouth than I hear the crash of splintering wood followed by particularly colorful elfish cursing. I turn away from the circle in time to see Accantha running down the stairs, a barrage of fiery darts streaking inches above her head until they slam into the wall at the bottom of the stairwell. A tall man in an exquisite suit jumps onto the platform, his feet hitting the concrete floor with a boom as dust billows out from beneath him. If Accantha had been a half-second slower her head would have been smashed to pulp beneath the expensive, Italian leather shoes.

She rolls away from the steps, and is half way to me before the stranger points at her and whispers a word of utter darkness. She stops where she is, a look of panic on her face as she is lifted into the air by an unseen force. “Elf bitch,” the man says, “I told you not to run.” The man flicks his wrist and she is flung like a rocket into me, sending us sprawling across the floor.

I untangle myself from Accantha and pull myself upright. I look up in time to see a smile on the well-dressed man's face, right before he punches me in the jaw and sends me staggering backward. I slam into the wall and it knocks the wind from my lungs. He hits harder than any human I have ever known. I shake my head, trying to regain my focus, but a pair of blows to my stomach and another to my jaw leaves me staggering.

"Bet you didn't expect that, did you?" The man taunts me as he continues to hit me, keeping me off balance. Something about him seems familiar, but I cannot put my finger on it. He pushes me into the wall and punches me some more. The only thing keeping me standing is his iron grip on my mailed shirt. "Do you know how long it has been since I have been able to beat on an Angel?" He stops hitting me, holds my face up to his, and says, "There were a couple during the dark ages, but it hasn't been since the Fall that I have been able to really let loose."

Each blow is a hammer shot that would have killed any mortal man. So powerful and so rapid are the strikes that I can do little more than catch my breath between blows. The more he hits me the more his appearance changes. He grows taller and his skin darkens to coal black. His once exquisite suit, now stained with my blood, rips and tears as his muscles expand beyond the expensive fabric's capacity to stretch. By the time he is finished delivering the beating, his eyes glow red and his breath reeks of sulfur.

He releases me and I fall to the floor in a heap. His breathing is rapid and sweat covers his skin. "Damn, but that felt good," he growls with delight. He shakes his hands, sending droplets of my blood flying. He mutters an incantation and a dagger with a wickedly curved, foot-long blade materializes before him. He plucks the knife from the air and waves it back and forth in front of my face.

"I know you," I croak. "You're Albert's bitch, Haden." He kicks me in the stomach; the pain is worth it.

"I prefer demonic liaison, thank you very much." He looks at me for a moment and says, "You're one of those urchins that Albert keeps around to keep him supplied with drugs and whores, or at least you pretended to be one." Haden’s laughter echoes throughout the room. "Albert will be pissed when he finds out you were an Angel; even better, you were the Angel we have been trying to summon for years." He wipes away a tear from his eye and takes a deep breath. "This is too funny."

"Why would you want to summon me?" I ask before I spit out a couple of teeth along with a mouthful of blood.

"It's funny you should ask," he says. "Albert wanted to summon you so that he could kill you. Your intended role in the Apocalypse is well known, but the trick is you can be replaced." The demon kicks me in the leg before turning away. "You see, Albert wants to be a direct contributor to the end of the world, and I am here to make sure that happens. You are the Angel of Death, so named by the Father at the dawn of creation. You were the first Angel created by him, and if not for some misplaced sense of loyalty, you could have joined the Morning Star in his revolution and turned the tide of battle." Haden pauses his rant long enough to run back to me and slap both sides of my face in turn. "But you didn't!" he yells, his hot spittle showering my face. "You chose Him instead of yourself, but when you disagreed with him you left anyway! You condemn us for wanting the same freedom you took for yourself? You hypocrite!"

I never see the blows coming. He is screaming at me, but I cannot make out the words as I try to cover up from the abuse. I protect myself the best I can as he expends his rage one me. Memories of the Fall rush back to me. I recall the blood and violence that swept across Heaven and the myriad worlds of the material plain. So much death fueled my powers that I was as a scythe amongst my enemies. It was during this time that I took the title of Reaper.

Lucifer came to me and tried to convince me to join him. He pleaded his case to me, trying to make me see that his reign as King would be better for all, but I knew the truth of his heart and rejected him. He offered me dominion over the mortal worlds if I would side with his cause, but I did not desire it. When he could not persuade me or bribe me, he cursed me and swore that I would know no peace for the rest of my days. He left in a cloud of smoke.

I did not see him again until the Fall. I stood in attendance as the Father cast his judgment upon the rebels and banished them from Heaven. Lucifer could have chosen a path of redemption as a mortal, but his pride and his anger were too great, so he swore vengeance upon all who opposed him and departed, his head held high and his tail between his legs.

The memory of it makes me smile. Haden notices and takes a step back. "What are you grinning at?" he demands.

"Does hitting me make you feel better, Demon? Does it replace the void left by the Light?" I can see it in his eyes that it does not. "Do what you've come to do. It doesn't matter. His will be done."

Haden sneers and says, "Ever the trusting lapdog. You have been away too long. The Father has left the Throne unattended and the gates of Heaven are locked. Now is the time to act and so I shall." He mutters another incantation and a silver bowl of ornate craftsmanship materializes into existence. "Before I saw you here and knew you for who you were, I was coming to drain you of your blood so that Albert could hide himself and perform a more difficult summoning." The Demon steps closer and lifts my chin with the tip of his blade. "Since I have you here, I'll drain your blood and kill you in the process. No sense letting Albert have all of the fun."

"You know that no mortal magic will hide him for long, even with my blood," I say. I try to think of a way out of my predicament, but I come up with nothing. Lilly might be my one hope, but she cannot move out of the circle that binds her and I cannot tell if Accantha is still alive.

Haden says, "Normally I would agree with you, but Albert is more than a mere human. He is the spawn of a human mother and the Demon that raped her. He is a very talented sorcerer. Honestly, there are times he frightens even me, and when he puts his mind to a task there is little he cannot accomplish." Haden squats down in front of me and looks me in the eyes. "The real kicker is that he recovered a spell book from the time of the revolution. I have not seen such a thing since the Fall," he whispers. "I gave this plan of his a fifty-fifty chance when he first told me about it, but with that book in his hands, I would say replacing you is all but certain."

The Demon grabs me by the hair, and drags me away from the wall. "I think I'll take you upstairs and drain you on the altar," Haden says with a laugh. "I don't know if it will make your blood any more potent, but I do love the irony of sacrificing you in His house of worship."

We are nearly to the staircase when we hear footsteps coming down the steps. Haden steps back and uses me as a shield with the knife held to my throat. "Move and I'll take your head off right now," he hisses through clenched teeth. I do not understand what has him so upset; then I feel it and know why he worries.

The Light surrounds the person walking down the stairs. I know it is a member of the Host and so does Haden. Hope surges in my chest as my prayers are answered. “Hello, Reaper, it has been too long,” the Angel says. He is as tall as I am and wears the silver breastplate of the Host’s First Legion. His close cut blonde hair and the scars that crisscross his arms only adds to the feeling of menace that emanates from him. A sheathed sword rests comfortably on his back, its leather wrapped pommel worn from eons of use.

I know the aura, if not the face and I am glad. “Robert, it is good to see you,” I say. “I would offer my hand, but I’m afraid that I am in a bit of a pickle at the moment.” Haden pulls back on my head and the tip of his dagger pricks my skin, drawing a single drop of blood.

“I told you that your sabbatical would land you in trouble someday,” Robert says. “Demon,” Robert shouts, “release him or face my wrath.”

“You don’t scare me, Angel,” Haden says as he takes a step back. “I know who he is and what he is worth. You won’t risk his death.”

“On the contrary,” Robert says, “I am here for his head as well. If you kill him you will assume his governance over death. You will be wracked with pain and left twitching on the floor. When that happens, I will slit your throat and watch you writhe as the fear of non-existence reaches past the agony, and I will smile the entire time."

"Bullshit," Haden spits, "killing him won't transfer the mantle to me. There are rituals that must be performed."

"Is that what your half-breed master told you?" asks Robert. He laughs and says, "He was playing you for the fool, Demon. No doubt he intended to kill you as part of his rituals, and that killing is the only one that matters."

Then it happens; Haden blinks. For the briefest moment he doubts what Albert told him, and that is all the opening I need.

I use the last of my will to fill my body with the Power long enough to reach up with my hands and push away the dagger. Haden yells, Robert draws his sword, and I pull myself down. The Demon knows his choice is to kill me and die, or release me and fight. Lucifer’s followers are selfish creatures, just like their master, so it was never really a choice.

I fall to the floor and Haden dodges to the side just before Robert's sword cleaves the space we had occupied moments earlier. I roll to the side, clearing the way for Robert and Haden to have at each other.

I consider helping Robert, but as weak as I am I would do little more than be in the way. Accantha lies near the wall where I received my beating, so I crawl to her and pray that she is not dead. Accantha's breathing is shallow, and blood is dripping from her eyes, ears, mouth and nose in addition to the collection of cuts she has sustained. I place my hand on her shoulder and whisper her name. Her eyelids flutter open and she smiles. "So we're not dead?"

"Of course not," I say. "If we were dead, would we be having this conversation?" I look her over and say, "I don't know what all is wrong, but I'm going to fix you up some."

"No, I--"

"Don't worry. I'm not ending your time here even by accident, so think happy thoughts and accept what little I can do for you," I say. She frowns, but says no more. I pull at the Power, but the shield around the church makes it difficult. I can sense it beyond the shield, an ocean of energy waiting for me to tap into it, but I bring it through the shield in a trickle. I feed it into Accantha, careful not to use any of my own power lest I add a second oracle to my unintended collection, and I use it to stitch together the gunshot in her leg before fixing the broken bones and internal bleeding. It takes less than a minute to do such a minimal amount, but it feels like hours and exhaustion overtakes me. Not for the first time I find myself wishing that I could use the power to heal myself without falling to sleep.